


Scottwell Institute for the Betterment of Science

by wayward_winter_soldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And Now For Something Completely Different, Cages, Captive Sam Winchester, Claustrophobia, Evil Scientists - Freeform, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt Sam Winchester, Kidnapped Sam Winchester, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is a Saint, Sam Winchester is psychic, Scared Sam Winchester, Science Experiments, The Institute - Freeform, Tortured Sam Winchester, Worried Dean Winchester, inhumane treatment, reports of my death are greatly exaggerated, sam is experimented on, sam winchester is special, straight jacket
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-01-06 07:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_winter_soldier/pseuds/wayward_winter_soldier
Summary: If painful visions of the future weren't bad enough, Sam finds himself taken by crazy scientists hellbent on using his so-called powers for evil. Can Dean find his little brother before he is broken entirely?





	1. Chapter One: Houston, We Have a Problem

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Institute](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/470162) by ephiny63. 



**Chapter One: Houston, We Have a Problem**

* * *

Sam Winchester woke with a start, his head hitting the passenger door window so roughly that he worried he had drawn blood. Rubbing the side of his head, he sent a glare towards his older brother, who had his eyes on the road instead of his kid brother. That didn't prevent the famous Sam Winchester Bitchface from showing, though. 

"Where are we?" Sam asked, sitting up in his seat. He had fallen asleep in Arizona, but that must have been hours ago.

"Texas. You down to stop for the night?"

Sam shrugged, not carrying that much considering he had gotten in a considerable amount of sleep. "Whatever. Watch it with the driving though. They have the death penalty here, you know."

"Thanks Law Geek, I'll keep that in mind," Dean joked, pulling into a motel that only looked a little shady. When Dean parked the Impala, Sam swung his long legs out, eager to stretch them. He walked to the back, opening the trunk to get his duffel. Despite the nap he was tired and a bit hungry. Sam just wanted to crash on a bed and maybe have a sandwich as well. He grabbed his bag and waited for Dean to do the same. The two brothers made their way to the office to rent a room for the night.

"Howdy, what can I do for ya?" The lady at the front desk asked, looking up from a newspaper she was reading. 

"Hi, one room, two queens please," Dean flashed his flirty smile and Sam mentally rolled his eyes. However, the lady didn't have her gaze locked on Dean, but on Sam.

"Y'all not from around here, are you?" She asked, not taking her eyes off the youngest Winchester, which was starting to creep him out.

"No ma'am. That room?" Dean was leaning on the counter now, well aware of the look she was giving his brother.

"Right. Room 29. Have a nice stay," She said, sliding the key across the counter.

"Thanks."

Dean took the key and Sam's arm and walked out, which almost caused Sam to trip over his own feet.

"She gave me the creeps, you know that?" Dean said when they were finally out of earshot of the office.

"Me too. It's probably just Texas."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Just Texas."

The eldest Winchester brother unlocked the door, whistling softly when he clicked on the light. It wasn't the Hiltons by any stretch, but it would do. The brothers threw their bags on their respective beds (Dean's was always the one closest to the door) and Sam flopped down onto his bed ungracefully.

"Why don't you go get food, huh?" Dean asked, throwing a twenty over at Sam.

"You just don't want me to be around Creepy Office Lady," Sam interjected, lifting his head from the pillow as he did so.

"You got me. Bring me some pie, I saw a diner down the road."

Sam sighed, grabbed the twenty, and sat up, watching as Dean threw his boots off and clicked on the television.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

 Sam shut the door behind him, not bothering to even ask for the keys to Baby since his legs begged for movement. The diner was only a block away anyways, so he started walking, unaware of Creepy Office Lady staring at him as she talked on the phone.

* * *

It was about thirty minutes when Dean Winchester began to worry. Sam wasn't one to be late, especially when his brother's pie was on the line. 

No, Sam Winchester wasn't late. Unless something horrible had happened.

Dean stopped his pacing about the room and left, determined to find his brother. His head was spinning with all the awful things that could have happened. He had one job, watch out for Sammy, and he couldn't even do that.

The parking lot was empty of life and the motel office did not have lights on. The diner that Sam had said he was going to was closed as well.

Where is the hell was he?

"Sam? Sam!" Dean was yelling now, not caring if he woke anyone up. He had to find his brother.

Dean walked the length of the motel, wondering if Sam had had one of his visions and passed out. They _were_ getting stronger.

"Sammy! C'mon, man, quit fooling around!"

Dean was outside for ten minutes, but the truth was evident. Sam was gone.

 

 


	2. I'm Waking Up to Ash and Dust

> **Chapter Two: I'm Waking Up to Ash and Dust**

* * *

Sam's eyes blinked open rapidly, as if he was shocked awake. The minute he opened his eyes, he seemed to get a splitting headache. Not a good start.

"Dean?" Sam called, sitting up. He wasn't in the motel room. In fact, he didn't even remember going back to the motel room. 

* * *

_The diner was a few hundred feet away when Sam heard something in the alley. He looked over, not at all planning on investigating. The noise stopped, and so Sam kept walking towards the main entrance. That is, until he felt a sharp prick in his neck. His vision became foggy and he felt very tired._

* * *

Everything was coming back to him now. He was drugged and kidnapped! Why was it always him getting kidnapped, anyway?

The youngest Winchester looked around the room (or rather, cell) that he was in. He was on a hard bed that was nailed to the cement floor. There was no blanket or pillow, just a thin mattress that had seen better days. The room was very small, with walls that had once been white and no windows. Sam immediately noticed the camera in the right corner of the room's ceiling. The only exit was a heavy steel door with a tiny window to see in with. It had bars, making it impossible for Sam to reach through. The lights were bright and he found himself wincing anytime he looked directly at the fluorescent panels on the ceiling. 

His clothing had changed as well. No longer was he in jeans and a flannel, but a white T-shirt and cotton elastic pants. He had no socks or shoes on as well. The shirt, on first inspection, was plain white, but he noticed the number twenty-nine printed on the left corner of his chest. The black number also took up the back of the shirt, but Sam could not see it. Sam stood from the bed, walking towards the door in hopes he could see something. The window only yielded another door, with the number twenty-eight on a panel by it. Sam was, however, able to see the complex keypad lock on his neighbor's door, which only made his heart sink a little bit further.

"Hey! Hello! Anyone out there? Bueller? Bueller?"

Sam backed away slightly when he heard heavy bootsteps come down the hallway towards his door. He stepped back even further when the door swung open to reveal three huge guards and a smaller man in a white doctor's coat. 

"Hello Twenty-Nine. So glad to see you up. They injected so much into you, I was afraid you would be out all day," The doctor man said, smiling at Sam in an almost cynical way. 

"Who are you?"

The doctor chuckled at Sam's bluntness. "Forgive me. I am Doctor Carter, the 'head honcho' here, you could say."

Sam looked warily at the armed men who stood in front of the door staring at him. They were all somehow taller than him. "And where's _here_ exactly?"

"Scottwell Institute for the Betterment of Science," Doctor Carter said, stepping closer to Sam. "You're our newest subject. You're special, Twenty-Nine."

Sam laughed. "I'm not anyone's subject and there's nothing special about me. So if you'll excuse me..."

Sam made a move towards the door and all three guards immediately pointed weird-looking guns at him. Sam stopped dead in his tracks.

"Now, Twenty-Nine, I was hoping you would be more... cooperative."

"My name is Sam, jackass. Let me go!"

Doctor Carter shook his head in a sad motion that was so obviously fake. "I'm sorry, Twenty-Nine. This is your home now, and we can either do this the easy way or the hard way."

Sam glared at the guards and the doctor, not standing down.

"The hard way it is then."

In a flash, before Sam could even see what was coming, the guard in the middle shot him with the strange gun, sending a bolt of electricity through Sam's entire body, causing him to fall to the floor in shock.

"Think of it as a mix between a taser and a cattle prod, Twenty-Nine," Doctor Carter said, beckoning two nurses into the cell. The male one carried a thick straight jacket and Sam knew exactly who it was for. 

"Get away from me!"

The nurse didn't listen (obviously) and as Sam focused his attention on the male nurse, the female nurse pricked him with that damned needle again, though this time he didn't black out. 

"I want you to see this," Doctor Carter explained, watching as the nurses fastened the straight jacket on Sam's torso. The drug had made him limp, but still conscious and able to feel pain. "I want you to know what we take away from you. Take it to the prep room."

Sam felt his body being dragged out by the guards, only focusing on the way the doctor had called him an 'it'. Was that all he was to them?

Sam watched as he was dragged down the long hallways that never seemed to end. All the doors looked the same, just with different labels. It took so long in Sam's mind, but was most likely only a minutes or two when they entered a new room, far bigger than the cell.

The ceilings were high and everything was much cleaner. Sam was kept in the straight jacket and restrained to a metal operating table, which made him nervous.

"Don't worry, Twenty-Nine. It's just standard procedure," Doctor Carter said, messing with a few switches before the table was locked in a vertical position, enabling Sam to see anything coming for him from the front.

"Joseph, the clippers."

Sam's stomach twisted in knots as he saw the guard, Joseph, walk towards him with a fowl pair of scissors. Sam tried to struggle, but the drug was strong and was not giving him any leeway. 

"Stay away from me," Sam mumbled, his brain still cloudy.

The guard did not listen, or perhaps did not hear Sam as he began to crudely hack away at Sam's beloved hair. Sam was embarrassed, but a few tears did slip down his cheeks. His hair had always been the thing that made him Sam. His dad hated it and Dean made fun of it, but he never cut it short. And now those bastards were snipping it away, not caring that every so often they nicked his skin. 

When Joseph was done, Sam's hair resembled Dean's own hair, but only if Dean had gone to Sweeney Todd to get it cut and said demon barber was drunk, in the dark, and working with hedge clippers. It was messy, not at all neat or presentable, and there were bald spots that had dried blood on them as the guard had been nothing but cruel with his technique. 

"Is it warm?" Doctor Carter asked, not looking at Sam, who had a look of complete and utter defeat on his face.

"Haven't you done enough?" Sam asked, feeling the back of his neck cold for the first time in a very long time.

"Twenty-Nine, I know you are impatient, but after this you can return to your cell for the night, okay?"

"My name is Sam," Sam said, but Doctor Carter ignored him as he unlocked the straight jacket and shoved the sleeves down to his elbow. He then rolled the sleeves of both his arms on his T-shirt up to show off his shoulders. 

"Start with the left," Doctor Carter instructed, and Sam's eyes widened as he saw what they were going to do.

"You're... you're going to brand me?"

The doctor said nothing, only watched as Joseph took the hot metal rod and pressed it into Sam's delicate flesh, a horrible scream erupting from him. The smell of burning flesh lingered in the air, even after Joseph had lifted the rod to reheat for the right shoulder. 

Doctor Carter smiled at the red hot '29' that marked Sam's flesh permanently as Joseph did the second brand, the same firey number. 

Sam passed out right before the second round.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3: Just Waiting for the Hammer to Fall

**Chapter 3: Just Waiting for the Hammer to Fall**

* * *

 

When Sam woke up, he was back in the cell. His head was spinning and his shoulders burned like a son of a bitch. He winced as he sat up on the disgusting bed, rolling the sleeves of his T-Shirt up. The events of the day before came crashing back to him as he saw the angry red brands of the number '29'.

He was in deep shit, that he knew very well. Sure, he'd been kidnapped before, but locked in some cell so a scientist could brand him and torture him? No, that was definitely a first.

"God, where the hell is Dean?" Sam mumbled, standing up on the cold cement floor that reminded him of a basement. His arms ached, but he made his way to the steel door anyway, peering out the small barred window. Nothing but a white wall and door similar to his own met his gaze again. He was stupid to think that anything had changed, but it was always worth a shot. 

There was the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the door, which made Sam jump back. He was so not in the mood to play mad scientist.

The door opened and Sam was met with the sam orderlies from before. He glared.

"You come for the turndown service?"

They said nothing as they promptly shot Sam with their electric gun things, sending the youngest Winchester to the floor in pain.

"Damn!" Sam cursed, holding his now hurt leg. The two men took Sam by the arms, not at all trying to miss the fresh brands, and proceeded to drag him from the cell.

"You asshats! All high and mighty with those guns, huh? Why don't we go a few rounds without em, hey? I'll fucking show you!"

They paid him no mind as they entered Dr. Carter's lab, placing him on some sort of metal examination chair and strapped him down.

"If you keep screaming, we'll gag you," one said to Sam. "The doctor doesn't like backtalk."

"Well, boo hoo for him!"

A guard smacked Sam hard in the face, definitely leaving a mark. 

"Shut your mouth, Twenty-Nine. No one cares."

The doctor entered the room after the assault, like he was just waiting for someone to smack Sam in the face. Sam tugged at his bounds, frustrated when they didn't even give just a little bit. 

"Twenty-Nine. I hope you slept well," Dr. Carter said, looking over some papers on a clipboard.

"Like a baby who was captured by an insane man about to lose his medical license," Sam said snarkily.

Dr. Carter looked over. "They weren't lying when they said I don't appreciate backtalk, Twenty-Nine. One more outburst and they'll get the gag."

"Kinky," Sam replied, because he was tired and angry and hurt and just wanted Dean to come and fix everything.

"The gag, Fred."

Sam wiggled in the leather straps, but it did no use because this Fred guard just held him down by the neck as the second one inserted a ball gag into Sam's mouth and tightened it around his head roughly.

"Excellent. Thank you. I think we'll start with the electric pain tests today, boys. The EST machine?"

Sam watched silently as the two buff men rolled a cart over with wires and knobs that looked like the machine the demon had used on Sam when he was in the mental hospital with Lucifer visions. 

They were going to electrocute him.

Sam struggled more. He was tied down at the ankles and wrists with leather cuffs that had also been used on him in the mental hospital, when he had gotten rid of that ghost. Dr. Carter smiled at him.

"You know what this is, don't you Twenty-Nine?"

Sam couldn't reply. He continued to squirm. The one orderlie, Fred, was attempting to place the elector-thing on his head to administer shocks. Sam wasn't having it.

"Jon, the neck restraint if you will," the doctor said, motioning to the second guard.

Jon walked over to where Fred was struggling and begun to wrap a strap around Sam's neck, preventing him from moving his head much, which made Fred's job much easier.

Soon, the metal headband contraption was on Sam's head bringing back painful memories. He watched as the doctor messed with the dial.

"We'll start at 50. Start the recording."

The switch was flicked and Sam began to scream behind the ball gag, thrashing violently as electricity poured into his body.


	4. Chapter 4: O Brother, Where Art Thou?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Dean chapter, I suppose...

**Chapter 4: O Brother, Where Art Thou?**

* * *

 

Dean couldn't sleep. This was a normal occurrence when Sam went missing or was hurt, but this time it felt worse somehow. Sam was tough, Dean knew that. He was probably fighting tooth and nail with the thing that had took him. That was almost enough to keep Dean going the next morning. That, and a lot of cheap coffee.

The eldest Winchester knew he would have to ask around the motel, even though the lady at the desk creeped him out. Oh, the things he did for that guy.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, leaning against the wooden counter at around eight AM. It was the same lady from last night and Dean wondered if she ever needed to sleep since she was wearing the same clothes.

"Yes?" she asked, though there was no joy in her voice at all. Dean considered that perhaps she really did need to sleep.

"Hi, last night I came in here with a guy, yey-tall, brown hair that needs a trim, hazel eyes, twenty four, you've seen him around?"

The lady, who's name tag read 'Glades' looked unamused. 

"No, I haven't. Maybe you should keep a better eye on him if he wanders off."

Dean frowned, straightening up to his full height.

"It's not like he does this often," he whispered, mostly to himself.

"I have work to do," the lady said before exiting through a door behind the counter. Dean cursed, pulling out his cell phone.

* * *

Bobby Singer got many calls from many hunters every day, but the call from Dean Winchester wasn't like the others.

"Singer Auto-"

"Bobby it's Sam. He's gone."

Sam had a habit of getting himself into tricky situations, that every one knew. But Dean sounded urgent and scared, and Bobby knew that meant the kid had no leads.

"Where you at?"

"Rockport, Texas."

"I'm on my way."

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5: Those Were the Days of Our Lives, the Bad Things in Life Were so Few

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys what's up is it okay if I add an author's note up here? Good. So, I actually just want to say thank you for all the comments! My heart fills with every notification I get from kudos and comments!!! I also just wanted to say that it's all good if you want to comment things you would like to see happen in the story! It's actually really helpful!
> 
> So, thanks again! You guys are awesome!
> 
> Love,  
> Nat

**Chapter 5: Those Were the Days of Our Lives, the Bad Things in Life Were so Few**

* * *

 

Sam woke up yet again in the damn cell, his entire body throbbing. He had a major headache that felt like someone was using his forehead as a marching band bass drum. He couldn't feel his limbs very well either, which just made his head ache more for some reason.

He sat up on the sad excuse for a bed, his ears ringing slightly. He didn't remember much before he passed out from the electric shocks. It reminded him of that one episode of _Quantum Leap_ where Sam Beckett goes through electroshock therapy and starts developing the personalities of the people he had leapt into in the past. Well, except he didn't have DID. Sam actually smiled a bit thinking of his favorite TV show. That was, until he heard the door to the cell unlock.

"Hello, Twenty-Nine," The doctor said, smiling at Sam. It wasn't a very kind smile, of course, it was more of a snide smile that left very little to the imagination.

"What do you want?" Sam asked, a little louder than he intended considering his ears still rang like church bells.  

"I'm just checking on my patient, making sure it's okay," Doctor Carter said, approaching Sam slowly. Sam curled his limbs and body into the corner of the bed that met the wall.

"Stay away from me, Frankenstein."

Two guards appeared by the opening of the door, but Sam wasn't paying much attention to them, just Psycho Doc.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Twenty-Nine," Carter said in a soft voice usually used on children.

"My name is Sam. S-A-M. Sam. Leave me the hell alone, okay?"

The doctor didn't say anything for a minute. Then, he spoke, as if he had just now realized what he came here to say.

"Twenty-Nine, I was going to offer you a meal, but since you seem to not be cooperating, we'll just wait until you do."

As if by some cruel stage cue, Sam's stomach growled angrily, making the youngest Winchester blush.

"Let's see how strong you really are, Twenty-Nine."

* * *

It had been about two hours, and Sam was starving. They hadn't fed him since he had arrived, and Sam remembered beforehand walking to get a sandwich. He had been here for at least a day, maybe two, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on. 

Eating their food would be admitting defeat. And besides, it could be drugged and Sam wasn't in any mood to have unknown drugs coursing through his veins. His foot tapped nervously against the cement floor. He had slid off the bed after Hour One and was nestled in the opposite corner of the room with his knees pulled to his chest as if he was some sort of scared child. 

'Dean is looking for me,' Sam thought continuously. 'He had to be.'

WWDWD (What Would Dean Winchester Do) went through Sam's head multiple times. Dean Winchester would keep waiting. Dean Winchester wouldn't have let them shock him and shave and brand him in the first place.

Sam sighed, his head leaning against the wall. He wanted his big brother to come and make things all better. It was such an immature thought to have, but Sam didn't really care. This wasn't like the Benders or that crazy Frankenstein's Monster doctor that tried to take his damn eyes. This was serious. Dean had no leads whatsoever. It wasn't like Sam had left a Post-It that read 'Dear Dean, was kidnapped, send help, here's address. Love Sam.'

Sam saw the door creak open, Carter entering again, a wrapped sandwich in one had and a bottle of water in the other.

"Hungry, Twenty-Nine?"

"No," Sam said, staring into the doctor's dull eyes that were so dark they almost looked black.

Black eyes.

"Christo," Sam breathed, squinting to see the doctor's eyes better.

"Latin, yes, I studied that at University," The doctor continued, not at all phased. 

It was a bit of a let down. It wasn't like Sam wanted to fight off demons, but at least he would know what he was working with. It was a lot harder when the monsters were human, despite all the awful things they had done.

"C'mon, Twenty-Nine, you know you want to eat," Carter tempted.

"Go away."

The doctor's shoulders sagged a bit, which made Sam feel a bit better. 

"How long do you think you will last?" Doctor Carter asked.

Sam did not answer.

* * *

 

Sam fell asleep sometime after the doctor had left and had woken up to a very sore stomach begging for food. 

"I know, I know," Sam spoke to it. "Just gotta hold on."

Sam didn't know the time nor the day, but the florescent lighting did not waver to the Winchester's dismay. 

"Bad for the environment," Sam mumbled as he wrapped his arms around his stomach as if it would help.

Numbers went through his head. What were the numbers? Three days for water, three weeks for food. 

The doctor was offering a package deal of food and water, and Sam knew he could only go so long. His throat ached and his tongue was dry against his mouth, like he had shoved a piece of sandpaper in there or something.

The door opened. Sam had to think logically here. Accepting food and water would admit a bit of defeat and also open himself to possible drugging. On the other hand, he needed his strength up for when he evidently escaped and he would die without water.

"So?" The doctor asked.

"Please? Can I have the sandwich and water?"

The doctor smiled cruelly. "Of course. All you had to do was ask, Twenty-Nine. Like a good little dog."

Sam glared, second-guessing is choice and hoping Dean had at least one lead.


	6. Chapter 6: I Haven't Talked in Quite Some Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, you've all probably been wondering...
> 
> Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? Well, I've been gone for a bit for a number of reasons, which are, but are certainly not limited to:  
> Writer's block  
> Senior year of high school kicking my ass  
> Binge-watching Star Trek in my free time to catch up
> 
> So, yeah, here I am though, I didn't abandon this book, don't worry, I just have a life outside of the Internet.

**Chapter 6: I Haven't Talked in Quite Some Time**

* * *

 

Sam watched warily as the guards entered the room, the doctor in tow. He was tired. It was almost impossible to sleep with the unforgivably bright lighting in the cell, so when Sam did sleep, it was more a fitful experience that only lasted a few hours at most and did nothing to combat the sleepiness. 

"You're special, Twenty-Nine. That much is certain. I've been attempting to break you first, before we start on anything, but perhaps what we have in store for you will break you."

Sam, who was in the corner of the room with his legs tightly drawn up against his chest, glared. 

"Go screw yourself."

The doctor only smiled tightly, as if this was all some funny game.

"Let's not beat around the bush any longer, Twenty-Nine. You're psychic."

Sam's blood froze, which seemed impossible given how cold the temperature already was in the room. He should have known it was never just a simple human kidnapping when it came to himself. This guy knew about the supernatural. Worse, he knew Sam was a freak.

"I'm not," Sam lied, but he knew no one in the room believed him for a second.

"You are. Look, Twenty-Nine, we're going to help you. We can teach you how to use your powers. Won't that be nice, to have control?"

"I don't want to," Sam whispered.

"Well, you don't have a choice."

* * *

_"I can't stand it, I know you planned it, I'mma set it straight, this Watergate, I can't stand rockin' when I'm in here, 'Cause your crystal ball ain't so crystal clear-"_

Dean switched the radio off, the Impala now parked in the parking lot of a dingy diner a few miles from the motel room that the Winchesters were staying in. Well, _Winchester_ was staying in. The eldest Winchester brother was meeting Bobby Singer, an old friend who was more family than not. 

The search for the missing Sam Winchester was fruitless so far. This put Dean on edge. He was always on edge when his younger brother was in danger or even not around him. It was Dean's responsibility to watch out for Sam and he had failed. 

Dean walked into the diner, the coolness of air conditioning meeting him as he did so. He quickly spotted the older hunter and bee-lined for the booth, sliding in across from Bobby.

"Hey kid, how ya holding up?"

Dean ran his hands over his face, which had certainly looked better. He hadn't shaved in a few days and his hair stuck up in places. His eyes had huge bags under them and he more resembled Dr. McCoy than anyone else. 

"I need to find him, Bobby," Dean finally said, his sad, dull eyes meeting the elder hunter's.

"I know, son. I know."

The two didn't speak for a few minutes, only to order coffee from a bubbly waitress. Dean was thinking, which he would admit was not his strong suit. Sam was the smart one, but Sam wasn't here.

"You have any leads?" Bobby finally said, breaking the silence.

"No. He just vanished."

"Sam Winchester never just vanishes. There's always a reason."

Dean couldn't agree more.

 

 


	7. I Go Where the Wild Things Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And she rises from the dead to bring you a new chapter...

**Chapter 7: I Go Where the Wild Things Are**

* * *

Sam Winchester had a disgusting habit of biting his fingernails when stressed or worried. He had thought the habit had broken a little after starting to date Jess, who felt the need to fill him in how gross fingernail biting was. However, it seemed the nasty habit was back.

Since Dr. Carter had finally come clean to Sam about the real reason for his capture, Sam had been biting his nails like a mad man. The youngest Winchester did suppose he was a mad man. He was left for hours on end with nothing but his own foreboding thoughts to keep him company and most of the time those thoughts were anything but happy.

Everything always ended the same way; Dean not finding Sam in time.

He had always been able to rush to his rescue before, from that time he was being auctioned off by that Butterfly man to the other time with the cage and Lucifer. Sam was always betting on Dean to get him out of trouble and how was that fair at all? Maybe it was for the best that Dean didn't find Sam. Maybe if he just forgot about him and went on with his life, it would be better. Dean could be happy.

Sam didn't deserve to be happy, or at least that's what _he_ thought.

The door creaked open at a time Sam was not sure existed anymore. The doctor was there along with a few guards. Sam looked up from where he was, the corner of the room directly under the security camera, his knees drawn up to his chest as he chewed at his fingernails, his eyes not wavering from the door. 

"Hello, Twenty-Nine."

Sam said nothing.

"If you would follow me, we can begin on our true mission here," the doctor continued.

Sam did not move from his spot. He didn't want to go anywhere with that man. He wanted his brother. He wanted Cas.

The guards moved swiftly over to Sam, grabbing him under his arms and pulling him up. The doctor watched curiously as the men pulled Sam out of the cell and towards the doctor's operation room. 

Twenty-Nine was going to be a tough case to break, but by God was he worth it.

* * *

Sam wasn't very sure how one detected if an individual was psychic or not, but he guessed it was unpleasant for the psychic in question. 

He was right, of course. There was a reason he was known as the smart Winchester.

Sam was strapped to the metal table again. He was forced to look up at the ceiling tiles as the nurses situated him, removing his shirt and strapping him to the cold table. He counted, for he had nothing else to do to bide his time. Anything to distract him from what would happen to him. 

The nurses (if they even really were nurses) attached electrodes to the young Winchester's head and bare torso. They were almost as cold as the table and stuck to him uncomfortably. He squirmed, wanting them off, but that just made one of the nurses tighten the restraints.

"Please," Sam choked out, his eyes meeting a certain blonde nurse. Her blue eyes locked onto Sam's hazel ones and he thought that perhaps for just a minute she showed sympathy, but it was quickly replaced with a neutral emotion as she inserted the gag into his mouth.

"Now Twenty-Nine, we know just how many psychic abilities lie within you. You can't hide from us. Nurse, if you would," Carter said, motioning to the machine all the electrodes were hooked up to. The blonde nurse from before simply nodded and turned the dial quickly. She took one last look at poor Sam Winchester before engaging the power button, sending the young man into a fit of shaking and screaming.

 


End file.
